Dementor's Kiss
by Ohnann
Summary: Fred and George have come up with a hex, and Ron is affected by it.


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**Dementor's Kiss**  
  
**By Ohnann (ohnannkittymail.com)**

* * *

"Ron! Harry!" Fred and George came scuttling down the stairs from the boys' dorms. They hurried, still hollering ("Harry! Ron!"), to the table where the boys sat, together with the industrious Hermione. The three were alone in the Gryffindor common room, with the exception of Neville, who was curled up in an easy chair in the other end of the room, uncharacteristically engulfed by a thick book.  
  
"What?" said Ron testily, and peered at his older brothers from over the edge of one of his old books by Gilderoy Lockman.  
  
Harry placed his own book on the table and looked up, taking notice of the twins' eager faces and their jittery movements. Instinctively, he shifted backwards in his seat, in that case something near Fred and George would explode.  
  
"We've done it!" George beamed, and held up a crumpled piece of parchment. He enveloped it with all five fingers; as if he was afraid it somehow would break free and fly off into the fire.  
  
"Oh, no... Not another product for 'incorrigible mischief-makers'?" Ron groaned, looking mildly impressed.  
  
Harry was under the impression that Ron referred to something, but he was just as glad he didn't know what, as it sounded like the kind of excuse the twins would use on their suspicious mother.  
  
Fred shot Ron an icy glare. "I'm starting to think that prefect badge is hexed – with boredom. Don't worry, Ronnie... You won't wake up hair-less tomorrow either."  
  
"We've combined a heap of different spells," George cut in, since he apparently thought that his twin stalled the fun, "and finally come up with this! (He waved the parchment again.) If we've done it right – and we sure hope so- it will make a person act like a Dementor!"  
  
Harry could feel one of his eyebrows reach for the ceiling, though he put a lot of effort into keeping a neutral expression.  
  
"What's the good of that?" Ron chose the one question which burned hottest on the tip of Harry's tongue.  
  
"Really, Ron... How did you become so narrow-minded?" Fred said, placing his hands on his hips, suddenly resembling his mum. "Just imagine being able to shut that Malfoy up: turn him into a gaping goon in no time!"  
  
Ron mumbled something about Malfoy finally being able to fit in with Crabbe and Coyle.  
  
Harry had to admit, that it was an appealing thought. "Does it work?"  
  
"That's the problem... We haven't exactly tried it out yet."  
  
Ron looked up at George, a peculiar expression on his face. "I'll try it... since I know that's why you came here in the first place. But if it works – and I don't think it will- you'll use it on Malfoy the first thing in the morning."  
  
Now it was Fred's turn to beam. "Marvellous! That, or anything else of your choice! Stand over there."  
  
There was a snort from Hermione's direction. Even though she appeared to only have eyes for her homework, Harry knew she'd listened carefully to every word they'd said.  
  
Ron looked extremely sceptical as he placed himself in-between the table and a couple of empty armchairs. He was clad in a shirt and the pullover – the robes with the prefect mark he'd left in a heap on his seat.  
  
In a loud voice, George began to wave his wand, while reading from the piece of parchment.  
  
While waiting for something to happen, Ron shot Hermione a quick glance. Her face was obscured by the book, but she hadn't turned the page in quite some time, apparently interested in the outcome, after all.  
  
To Harry, the long spell sounded downright like gibberish. He was just about to ask George if he hadn't taken the wrong parchment, and was reading a shopping list backwards or something, when a small puff of dark grey smoke emerged from the tip of George's wand.  
  
The puff instantly grew in size, but decreased in colour. By the time it was all white, Ron was completely engulfed by smoke.  
  
Somewhere within the smoke, Ron made a choking sound, similar to the one he'd made when he accidentally breathed in one of Crookshanks's loose tufts of hair while yawning.  
  
When the smoke subsided, Fred and George leaned forward expectantly, dragging Harry with them through their unspoken enthusiasm. It was as if they expected to find Ron without facial attributes, draped in long, black robes. But it was just the same old Ron. Red hair, freckles, wrinkled shirt and all.  
  
"It's not working!" George was frustrated. He formed the parchment into a little hard ball and carelessly threw it over his shoulder.  
  
"I think his arms are a little limper than before." Harry announced, unable to keep a small grin from forming.  
  
"That's not funny, Harry." Fred sighed in unison with his brother. "Back to the drawing table."  
  
The words had barely left Fred's lips before Ron started to blink rapidly. His eyebrows reached for his hairline, and he suddenly shut his eyes. His jaw fell down, leaving his mouth open. Arms dangling at his sides, he started to shuffle over the floor. He was heading straight towards Hermione.  
  
She had moved her easy chair a little, since she hadn't been able to pull up her legs when it was so close to the table; it was placed in such a way, that Ron would be able to walk right up onto the stuffed cushion, if he wanted to.  
  
When he was a mere five feet away, Hermione finally looked up from her book. "Quit it, Ron. It's not funny."  
  
But Ron kept moving. Didn't flinch, didn't open his eyes and grin. In fact, he didn't show any sign of hearing her, at all.  
  
As he advanced, he raised his arms and held them out in front of him, like feelers.  
  
Hermione frowned; a fresh wrinkle began to form between her dark eyebrows. "Ron..." She said warily, apparently finally giving up on the whole thing being a joke. She got out of her seat, just when Ron reached out to grab her.  
  
Ron rounded the chair distressingly easy, for someone who didn't see. For each step he took forwards, she took one back. Unconsciously, Hermione mirrored Ron. She, too, held up her hands, as if hoping to fend him off; her mouth was open, in a silent plea for Ron to stop. Her wand was left on the table-top.  
  
Harry, Fred and George watched the chain of events excitedly from the other side of the table. "Is it for real?" Fred mumbled, poking Harry in the ribs. Harry couldn't tell. It wasn't his charm; _he_ wasn't supposed to know how it worked.  
  
Hermione had backed into a wall; her back was pressed against a tapestry in the Gryffindor colours. Ron, who suddenly was very close to her, raised his hands to her face.  
  
Ever so slowly, he cupped her cheeks, mildly forcing her head into a tilting position.  
  
"He's going to give her the Kiss..." George said; voice thick with emotion.  
  
Fred made a sound similar to the one Ginny always raised upon seeing a fluffy kitten.  
  
Harry thought the whole thing was too macabre to say anything at all. He reached for his wand, but stopped in mid-move, not having any idea what spell to use to part his friends. "Do something!" He finally got out, his voice efficiently shutting out the muffled sounds Hermione had started to make.  
  
At last, the twins reacted. Fred started to look around frenetically. "The parchment! Where is it?"  
  
When Harry gave him a puzzled look, Fred explained; "There was a counter- spell on the same piece!"  
  
"There it is!" George screeched so suddenly, that Harry nearly leaped out of his skin.  
  
Ron, however, didn't seem to take notice of anything besides his prey. Hermione had waved her arms a little at first, in a vain search of something to help her fend off Ron. It was completely fruitless, however, since all she could reach was the maroon- and gold-coloured textile immediately behind her back. Her palms were now pressed against the tapestry, as was the entire length of her back.  
  
George had retrieved the screwed-up parchment from under Neville Longbottom's chair. The younger boy was still lost in his book, and didn't even look up when George accidentally stepped on his foot.  
  
Hermione seemed to have accepted the situation – as well as one can accept the fact that an old friend is trying to suck one's soul out. But her cheeks, which had been rather flushed the whole time, had begun to shift in a worrisome blue shade.  
  
Fred, who impatiently had wrenched the parchment out of George's grip, was behind Ron in three or four strides. He raised his wand until it was about at the same height as Ron's shoulder, and then he started to read, rapidly. He stumbled over the words and had to take it from the beginning a couple of times, before he finally got it right, and a puff of pearly white smoke appeared.  
  
This time, it covered both Ron and Hermione, growing darker and darker until it subsided. Ron didn't make the same choking sound a second time, but instead a surprised yelp passed his lips, barely audible to the others.  
  
They had somehow expected to see Ron pull away from Hermione with an aghast look on his face, expected Hermione to squirm out of his grip, coughing and spitting... But they had not expected Ron remaining on the very same spot, or Hermione moving her hands from the tapestry to the back of Ron's head.  
  
"I don't understand," said Fred, his expression mirroring his words, "it should have worked!"  
  
"Maybe it did..." Harry mused quietly, and walked up to the pair. He patted Ron on the shoulder. "Ron... Ron! Ron, Peter Pettigrew is back and he wonders if he can sleep in your bed!"  
  
With a terrified wail and a look of pure disgust, Ron pulled away so quickly that Hermione would have lost her balance and fallen flat on the floor, if Harry hadn't been there to catch her.  
  
Hermione freed herself from Harry's grip, and he was almost certain he could hear her mumble "Send me to Azkaban any day," under her breath.  
  
Ron coughed nervously, and headed back to the table, eyes fixed on his shoes.  
  
Hermione followed his sagging shoulders with a soft gaze; then she seemed to collect herself, fixing her hair and straightening her robes. "That was probably the dumbest, least thought out spell I've ever heard of! That was a terrible thing to do to Ron! You could have tried it yourselves!"  
  
Fred and George flushed instantaneously, and they, too, turned their gazes towards the floor.  
  
"Hermione, why didn't you run when he closed up on you, why didn't you push him away...?" Harry asked her quietly.  
  
She gave him a puzzled look, which soon turned into an injured one. "Try to put yourself in my situation, and see how easy it is..."  
  
With one last look in the twins' direction, Hermione headed over to the table, picking up her books. Ron, who had sunk so deeply down into his seat that his hair barely was visible over the table-top, didn't look up at all.  
  
"Good night, Harry." Hermione mumbled, and then she was gone.  
  
"Brilliant, Ron!" Fred looked up from his dirty sneakers and sprinted over to Ron as soon as Hermione was out of sight. "Did you feel like a Dementor?"  
  
"Apparently I did." Ron grumbled, and attempted to fold his arms in the very awkward position he was in.  
  
"So, what time tomorrow?" George asked, the jitters and the sunny grin returning.  
  
"For what?"  
  
"What time should we try it on Malfoy? Just like you wanted, Ron."  
  
"Don't bother. As much as I would like to see him kiss Goyle... I don't think I would be that amused."  
  
Fred looked perplexed. "But... what do you want us to do then?"  
  
"Burn the parchment! Let it never see the light of day again!"  
  
Fred's eyes narrowed into thin slits as he looked at the piece of parchment, still in his hand. He seemed utterly reluctant. "Tell you what, Ron... We'll burn it, once we've gotten a chance – say two minutes – to memorize the spell."  
  
"Fine," Ron hissed, after sighing deeply. He struggled up from his seat, and gathered his things. "I'm going to bed. Please, Harry... make sure they do it."  
  
Harry nodded and added that he'd be studying until late, since he understood that Ron wanted to be alone.  
  
"Two minutes!" Fred said solemnly, trying to straighten out the parchment. George read over his shoulder. Soon, they mumbled the words simultaneously, desperate to store them away somewhere together with other information they found useful.  
  
Ron quickly disappeared up to the boys' dorms; books, rolls of parchment and quills cradled carelessly in his arms. He didn't see the faint whiff of sooty smoky oozing out from the tip of George's wand, nor did any of the other boys.  
  
"That's that!" Fred said two minutes later, screwed the parchment up again, and aimed for the fire. Within seconds, it had been completely devoured by the flames.  
  
Behind them, there was a dull sound of something falling to the ground. When Harry looked back over his shoulder, he noticed that it was Neville's book.  
  
Neville himself was finally on his feet; but he was as stiff as a board. His jaw had dropped open, and he started to shuffle across the floor...

* * *

The end 


End file.
